


How to Fake an Interest in Biomechanical Engineering

by squirenonny



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adopted brothers Keith & Shiro, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Shiro is hopeless and Matt is oblivious (or is he?), Slow Burn, complete fluff, unapologetic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirenonny/pseuds/squirenonny
Summary: Shiro has a crush on Matt Holt. But every time he runs into Matt he ends up embarrassing himself. Shiro's best friend Allura is no help. His little brother Keith is even worse. But Shiro is going to make his move before graduation if it kills him. (And it just might kill him.)





	1. Freshman Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hextant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hextant/gifts).



> Written for the 2016 Voltron Secret Santa for Hex (hextant on Tumblr), who had too many prompts too good to pass up. Hope you enjoy it!

“So I’m seriously not gonna see you until Thanksgiving?”

Shiro laughed and set a box of movies down on the unclaimed desk. Keith dropped a duffel bag full of clothes in the middle of the floor and scowled at the wall, at least until Shiro reached out to ruffle his hair. “Come on, Keith,” Shiro said, dodging a retaliatory swing. “It won’t be that bad.”

“It’s three months!”

Shiro grabbed the bag Keith had dropped and set it in the closet. His roommate—someone named Rolo, according to the construction paper signs on the door—had already come and gone, claiming half the closet, a desk, and the bottom bunk. That was fine with Shiro. When Keith was younger he’d been afraid of ladders, and Shiro had sacrificed his big brother rights to take the top bunk for three years before he got his own room. “You know, if you’re good Mom and Dad might bring you out here to visit a couple times between now and then.”

The way Keith wrinkled his nose, you’d have thought Shiro had asked him to bathe in boiling oil then jump in a lake full of piranhas.

“Hey, now, none of that.” Shiro tapped Keith on the nose. “We’ve got four hours till you head out. No tears till then.”

Keith gave him a deadpan look. “I’m not crying, Takashi. Do you _see_ my eyes?” He waved vaguely at his face. “I’m fine.”

Smiling, Shiro nudged him toward the door. “All right, then, Fine. Back to the car for another load.”

“Takashiiii,” Keith moaned, letting himself be pushed out into the hallway. “Why are you so _weird_?”

“Because you’re thirteen and you think everything is weird.”

Keith spun, jabbing Shiro with one finger. “Not true! _Ghost Adventures_ is cool.”

“Right, how could I forget? The two cool constants: _Ghost Adventures_ and _Spy Kids_.” Shiro pulled the door shut behind him. “You ever think maybe _you’re_ the weird one?”

“Heresy.” They were halfway to the stairs before Keith spoke again. “And let’s not kid ourselves here. _Spy Kids_ is cool _because_ it’s weird.”

Shiro clapped a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. “Keith!”

Keith ducked his head, hiding his smile. “It’s okay, Takashi. I’m not five anymore. I can handle the truth.”

“My baby brother, all grown up.” Wiping away a fake tear, Shiro pulled Keith in for a smothering hug. Keith thrashed against it, whining his protests and shoving Shiro’s face away. They wrestled their way down the stairs, across the lobby, and out into the muggy, late summer sunshine. Keith had a hold of Shiro’s bangs, Shiro had Keith’s shirt pulled halfway over his head, and neither of them was paying attention to where they were going. Shiro really should have seen it coming.

“Come on, come _on_! Why are you so _slow_?”

“Sorry. I’m coming. Hold your—woah!”

At the bottom of the front steps from the dorm building, Keith planted his feet and Shiro, who was a step behind, swung around him, tripping over his shoelaces. He didn’t see the other boy until it was too late. Shiro slammed into him, his elbow taking the shorter boy in the side of the head, his larger frame knocking the poor kid off the sidewalk and into one of the campus’s meticulously pruned shrubs.

Shiro released Keith instantly and covered his mouth with both hands as he chased after his unlucky victim. “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry! I’m such a--”

Whatever Shiro was about to say was lost when the other boy started laughing. He had a slender, gawky figure and a tangle of dark blond hair, and Shiro thought no one else could make crooked glasses, cargo shorts, and a pastel green polo shirt look quite so endearing—especially when it was all covered in evergreen needles.

“Um.”

The boy rolled out of the bush, still laughing that laugh that made Shiro’s heart forget its rhythm. He brushed himself off, straightened his glasses, and looked up at Shiro. “Sorry,” he said, a little breathlessly. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Shiro scratched the back of his neck, heat rising in his face. “You?”

The boy only waved his hands. “Super. Pidge has done worse, believe me.”

“Matt!” A little kid, maybe ten years old, dressed in an oversized tee-shirt and bright yellow flip-flops, came charging over and grabbed the boy’s wrist. “What are you _doing_? I wanna see the robotics lab!”

“Oh, uh. Right. Sorry, Pidge.” The boy—Matt—raised his free hand toward Shiro. “Guess that’s my cue. See ya!”

Then he was gone, and Shiro was left staring after him, lightheaded and flushed. _Welcome to college,_ he thought, a little dazed. He wondered if he’d be lucky enough to have any classes with Matt. Was he a freshman, too? He looked like a freshman, all short and gawky and as flustered as—well. Maybe not _as_ flustered as Shiro, but he had that first-day-of-college awkwardness. Right? They might at least have gen eds together.

“Oh my god, Shiro, get your ass over here before I break my shoulders lifting your stupid books.”

Shiro blinked, turning toward the car. Keith was straining to get a box of astronomy books out of the trunk. Their parents must have taken their load inside while Shiro was busy hip-checking innocent students into bushes. Shaking himself, Shiro headed over to help Keith. “Language,” he chided absentmindedly, smiling to himself as Keith moaned and groaned. Shiro grabbed the books from Keith and settled them on his hip. “You gotta hit the weights if you can’t even lift this, little brother. I’m beating you, and I’ve only got one arm.” He waved his prosthetic in Keith’s face, getting a snort and a punch in the ribs for his trouble.

“You are the _worst_ brother.”

“Uh-huh.” Shiro shifted his weight. “Just grab some of the posters or something. We’ve got a couple more trips to make, and I don’t want to be unpacking all day.”

Keith tossed a backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the laundry basket, which was currently full of first aid kits, flashlights, and other emergency supplies. “You know child labor is illegal, right?”

“It’s not child labor if you’re not getting paid.”

Keith took care to hit Shiro with the backpack as he passed. Shiro laughed and closed the trunk before following. He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering in the direction Matt had gone—toward the science buildings, if he wasn’t mistaken. That would be pretty cool—both of them science majors. Altea U had a lot of cross-listed science classes, so even if they didn’t have the same major, they might see each other. A guy could hope, right?

“Takashi, what the hell!”

Shiro dragged his eyes away from the empty path. “Keith, you’re at a ten and I’m gonna need you to dial it back to about a four.”

“Bite me.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and started up the stairs. “You know, I _was_ going to tell you where I hid my switchblade, but if you’re going to be like that...”

Keith straightened up so fast the backpack of novels and video games almost pulled him over backwards. “Wait, seriously?”

“I don’t know. You seem a little too angry to be trusted with a knife.”

“What? No I’m not! Takashi!”

Shiro hummed and headed up the stairs. “Maybe next year.”

“That’s not fair, Takashi! You can’t just _say_ something like that and not follow through. _Takashi!_ ”


	2. Sophomore Year

A year later, Shiro’s love life was a delicate balance of disappointment and silver linings. He and Matt did not, in fact, share any classes. At least not in the first three semesters of their college career, and they were rapidly approaching the point where there were no more low-level classes where Shiro might get lucky.

On the bright side, Matt _was_ a science major (engineering, specifically), so they passed in the hallways and had more than a few mutual friends. Shiro had even managed a few casual conversations with Matt (Matt _Holt_ , as it turned out, son of Professor Sam Holt, who everyone in this quarter of campus knew as _that bio prof with all the aliens in his office._ )

The sad thing was, Shiro knew more about Professor Holt than his son, partly because Shiro had taken an Intro to Bio class with Professor Holt, partly because everyone in the science programs had heard stories. Professor Holt had a big personality, and as an astrobiologist with a passion for cryptids, he was hard to overlook in any staff lineup.

If there was one solid plus to come out of Shiro’s freshman year, it was Allura. Like Shiro, she was an astrophysics major, though somehow they’d managed to only have one class together so far. As a matter of fact, they’d met through Allura’s uncle, who happened to be one of Shiro’s favorite professors. Coran was the kind of professor who hated being called professor, insisted his students use his first name, and turned office hours into a never-ending litany of nostalgia and fish stories (both literal and figurative.)

Shiro had made the mistake of going to Coran’s office to talk about their final project for Intro to Astronomy, and what he’d intended as a ten minute visit had turned into two hours. He’d missed lunch hours in the cafeteria, and Coran had missed a lunch date of his own.

From the moment Allura had kicked open her uncle’s office door, Shiro knew they were going to get along. She was six feet of muscle and flawless hair, and halfway through yelling at Coran about common courtesy, she noticed Shiro, trying his best to make his non-negligible bulk disappear into his armchair.

Allura stared at him for a moment, pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed to the heavens. “Uncle Coran, please tell me you didn’t make another student miss lunch.”

Coran coughed, Shiro assured them both it was no problem, and Allura stared at the ceiling as though asking the universe why it had it in for her.

In the end, Shiro had joined Allura and Coran for lunch in town. It had become a semi-regular thing, if only because (according to Allura) Coran was ten times less likely to be late to lunch if Shiro tagged along. And just like that, Allura became Shiro’s best friend.

If he’d known how _that_ would end, he might have cut and run at the very beginning. At least that way he wouldn’t have ended up abandoned in the middle of the Undergraduate Research Symposium, watching his self-confidence crash and burn.

Matt Holt came alive when he talked about his research.

Shiro stood by a poster three spots down the aisle from Matt’s, ostensibly listening to a sophomore talk about the isolation and classification of a novel bacteriophage. Really, though, he was watching Matt. Most of the students here stood feet-together, facing their audience, either rigid with nerves or making small, relaxed gestures as they spoke.

Matt looked like he would have given his presentation from the rafters if he hadn’t had to deal with something as trivial as gravity. His hands never _stopped_ moving, guiding his audience through the poster instead of letting it stand as an interesting but unintelligible backdrop to his memorized speech. Shiro suspected that given a whiteboard and marker, Matt would have been able to run a lecture on par with half the professors.

He was also smiling, his hazel eyes alight with genuine excitement, and Shiro died a little every time that beam of pure joy turned his way.

“So, yeah. That’s the story of Mycobacteriophage Pumpkin. Any questions?”

Shiro turned back to the sophomore, blinking slowly. He’d barely heard any of her presentation—exactly enough to know he was out of his depth. And of course there was no one else around to ask questions in his stead. He stared at the girl’s poster, fighting down panic, and asked the first thing that came to mind. “Why’d you name it Pumpkin?”

The girl shrugged easily. “Because I found it on Halloween,” she said.

Shiro frowned. “Seriously?”

She blinked, then laughed. “You’re not a biology major, are you?”

“No…?”

“It shows.” She waved her hands before Shiro could figure out the proper response to that. “No, sorry. I’m not trying to be mean, it’s just. Well. There’s a gene, _shh_ , named after Sonic the Hedgehog because a mutation makes the embryo look like, well, Sonic. Or how about Tinman—if there’s a problem there you get an embryo with no heart.” She waggled her eyebrows at him until he laughed. “Here’s a secret for you: biologists are some of the biggest nerds you will ever find. We just usually hide behind abbreviations. Or faux-Latin. Or both.”

“You’re kidding. Latin? As in scientific names—like, _Homo sapiens_? That kind of Latin?”

The girl grinned. “There’s a trilobite named _Han solo_ , I kid you not. Or how about _Eucritta melanolimnetes?_ It translates to—and I’m using the word translate loosely here— _creature from the black lagoon_ .”

“What?” Shiro laughed into his hand. “Why did no one ever tell me this?”

“Because we’re all afraid if we tell anyone someone’s going to ruin our fun. So mum’s the word.” The girl pressed a finger to her lips and winked at him.

By this point a new group of students was wandering toward the poster, so Shiro wished her luck and, grinning, drifted off. Matt Holt was taking questions from his latest group of curious passers-by, which meant Shiro was about to have the perfect excuse to talk to him—or, well. Listen to him talk. Which might have been even better.

Shiro lingered at the back of the group around the poster next to Matt’s—close enough not to immediately give himself away, but far enough that no one would notice when he slipped away. As soon as Matt’s audience dispersed, Shiro steeled himself and headed over.

“Hey!” Matt said brightly when he saw him. “Shiro, right?”

Shiro’s heart may or may not have done a flip upon realizing that Matt Holt knew his name. He grinned, hoping it didn’t look stupid. “That’s me. I didn’t know you were presenting.” It was the biggest lie Shiro had ever told. He only had a handful of other friends with posters, and he’d acted as a test audience for most of them. If not for Matt’s name in the Symposium’s booklet, Shiro probably wouldn’t even be here.

“Yeah! You want to hear my spiel?”

“Of course.” Shiro grinned. He kept the, _You could talk about your research on drying times of paint and I’d still listen_ , to himself.

It took approximately 2.5 seconds for Shiro to realize he was in over his head. The brochure had listed Matt’s department as Biomechanical Engineering. Shiro, a physicist at heart, had focused on the mechanical engineering part and assumed he would have enough context to follow Matt’s presentation.

It figured the bio was more than just a prefix.

Five minutes later, Shiro was staring glassy-eyed and ashamed at Matt’s poster, trying to scrounge together enough knowledge for a question that didn’t sound completely amateur. He’d gathered that Matt was working with synthetic nerves, and… that was about as far as his comprehension took him.

“So.” Matt bounced on the balls of his feet, grinning. “Questions?”

“Uh…” Shiro’s mind felt like a ghost town, complete with tumbleweeds and whistling wind. He felt himself start to panic and, as usual, lost control of his brain-tongue filter. “Did you know there’s a trilobite named Han Solo?”

The look Matt gave him was equal parts adorable and humiliating, a confused puppy tilt of his head mixed with the furrowed brow of a teacher who’d just realized all his students were chimpanzees.

Shiro’s words echoed in his ears and he cringed, heat rushing to his cheeks. “Scientifically,” Shiro said, because that made it so much better. “ _Han solo_ is it’s scientific name...is what I’m saying...” _Shut up, Shirogane_ , he screamed inside his head. _Stop making it worse._ He screwed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands, lamenting the fact that he hadn’t yet discovered the secrets of teleportation. “Sorry. I’m not a biologist. That Han Solo thing is about as deep as I go.”

He endured another three seconds of utter silence, wondering how long he had to stay before it stopped being rude to run away.

Then Matt cracked up.

Shiro parted his fingers, peeking out just to make sure Matt hadn’t—what?--gathered an audience together to appreciate the cosmic disappointment that was Takashi Shirogane? Instead he saw only Matt, arms wrapped around his stomach, face flushed.

“Sorry-sorry-sorry!” He straightened, waving his arms so furiously Shiro expected him to fling his pen across the room. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro said, as maturely as he could manage when his face felt like it was on fire and the target of his affections was grinning at him like he was the only person who mattered. “If there was ever something to laugh at, it’s my attempt to biology.”

In his efforts to stifle his laughter, Matt caught his lower lip between his teeth, and suddenly Shiro was right back to the oh-no-he’s-cute brain fog that had landed him in this mess.

“So,” Shiro said quickly, forcing himself to look at Matt’s poster instead of his pretty face. “Synthetic nerves…?”

“Yep!” And just like that, Matt was back in science mode, turning to point out things on his figures Shiro was ninety percent certain he’d already gone over. Shiro didn’t follow it any better the second time around, but he smiled and nodded when Matt turned back toward him. “I mean, this is still way early in the process, but a few years from now we could be using this sort of technology to make better prosthetic limbs.”

For once, Shiro’s brain was fast enough to veto his mouth, and he kept his first impulse locked away. As excited as he was to have found common ground—tenuous though it may be—shoving his prosthetic arm in Matt’s face and screaming, _You like prosthetics? So do I!_ probably wouldn’t win him any crush points. Subtlety was the name of the game.

So he kept his smile small and under control. “That’s really cool. Maybe someday I’ll get to tell people I have a Matt Holt original.”

“Matt! Ohmygosh, _Matt_! You didn’t tell me your friends were doing research on ion thrusters! That’s so cool!”

Shiro was still mentally congratulating himself for the smooth-and-subtle compliment when a teenaged mountain of enthusiasm came barreling into the conversation. The kid didn’t look any older than Keith—fourteen or maybe fifteen—but he was already as tall as Matt, thickset and practically buzzing out of his skin with excitement.

“ _Ion thrusters_ , Matt! I could be working with ion thrusters in four years!” He stopped, pursing his lips. “I mean, okay. Obviously someone has to be working on them, otherwise where would they come from, right? I guess I just always figured you had to already be working for NASA or something. Oh, uh, sorry. Am I interrupting?”

Matt laughed, ruffling the boy’s shaggy black hair. “Don’t worry about it. This is my friend Shiro. Shiro, meet Hunk.”

Shiro was so busy glowing over Matt’s use of the word friend that he almost missed the hand Hunk extended toward him. “Oh, uh, nice to meet you, Hunk,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand. “How do you know Matt?”

“My old high school has a mentorship program,” Matt explained. “ He’s interested in engineering, so they matched him up with me.” Glancing toward a cluster of posters down the hall that showed blueprints of engines and spacecraft, Matt’s smile turned wry. “I’m thinking he’ll end up in mechanical-engineering-minus-the-bio, but I can at least show him around.”

Hunk gave Matt the kind of petulant look Shiro was used to seeing after he’d told Keith yet again that, no, sword fighting was not a viable major at Altea U.

“Come on, Matt,” Hunk said. “Your research is awesome, too!”

“You cried when I showed you the mice Kayla’s using in her gene therapy study.”

Hunk scratched his cheek, looking sheepish. “That’s cause they’re cute, and I feel sorry for them. That doesn’t mean I think what you do is boring or anything. I just… I know I’d end up adopting all my test subjects instead of actually, y’know, testing them.”

“No shame in that.” Matt laughed and checked his watch. “Anyway, it’s almost noon. Wanna grab some lunch?” Hunk nodded, and Matt waved to Shiro. “Do you have a poster I should check out later, Mr. Han Solo?”

"Oh, um, I—no.” Shiro coughed into his hand. “I’m not doing research right now. Thanks, though. See you later?”

“Yeah. Bye, Shiro!”

“Bye...” Shiro watched Matt and Hunk disappear into the crowd, caught between disappointment and relief. _Story of my life,_ he thought, scrubbing a hand over his flushed face. “That could have gone worse. I wouldn’t have minded some moral support, though.”

Allura appeared beside him like some kind of spirit summoned by Shiro’s misery. She smiled at him, and then at Matt’s retreating back. “You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”

He glared at her. “And where have you been? You’re the one who convinced me to do this—and then you ditch me?”

“I wanted to see the astronomy presentations,” she said, faking innocence surprisingly well. “It isn’t my fault you’re a slave to biology.”

“Allura!”

She laughed at his blush, grabbed his arm, and towed him toward the exit. “All right, Han Solo, let’s go before you melt into a puddle of shame and hormones all over my shoes.”

Groaning, Shiro let himself be dragged out of the symposium. It didn’t surprise Shiro that Allura had been watching his abysmal performance, only that she’d admitted it so easily. He suspected it would be a long time before she let him live this one down.


	3. Junior Year

“Look, all I’m saying is that if it came down to it, I could defeat Voldemort.”

“Bullshit.”

“Keith.” Shiro sighed. “Just because Mom and Dad aren’t here doesn’t mean you can start swearing.”

Keith gave Shiro a dirty look as his friend Lance doubled over on the bench seat opposite them. Keith had turned sixteen and secured a driver's license in March, and twice in the three weeks since, he’d driven himself the ninety miles out to Altea U. He’d brought his friend with this time—partially a concession to parents worried about a new driver crossing the state on his own; partially, it seemed, a result of Lance whining about being left out of the road trip to visit “Garrison High’s biggest living legend, Keith, _come_ _on_!”

Honestly, Shiro was a little flustered by the kid’s borderline hero-worship. Sure, Shiro had placed in a few track and field events, even gone to State his senior year, but _living legend_ was a bit of a stretch. He’d hoped showing Lance around campus would dispel some of his energy and let them skip on to the part where they could talk like normal human beings, but the exercise seemed to only rile Lance up further.

Thankfully, he was easily distracted.

Keith crossed his arms as the waitress set their pizzas on the table—three meat for Lance, pineapple and pepperoni for Keith and Shiro. “So tell me, genius, what makes you think you could stand in for Harry Potter?”

Lance slid a slice of pizza onto his plate before he started counting off evidence on his fingers. “Okay, first? ‘Born as the seventh month dies.’ Guess who shares a birthday with Harry and Neville? This guy.” He tossed a piece of sausage in his mouth and waggled his eyebrows, like being born on July thirty-first was grounds for a standing ovation.

Keith stabbed his pizza with a fork and knife, slicing off a piece and shoving it in his mouth.

“Dude,” Lance said, appalled. “Who the hell eats pizza with _silverware_?”

Shiro covered a smile with a hand, arching one eyebrow at Lance in what Keith liked to call his _disappointed dadfriend face_. “Lance, I’m sorry, but if I’m asking Keith not to swear, I’m going to have to do the same for you.”

Lance fluttered a hand at him. “Okay, okay, sure, sorry. _Keith_. Put down that fork and eat your pizza with your hands like a civilized person.”

Staring blankly at Lance, Keith very carefully cut off another square of pizza and bit it off his fork. Lance tossed his head back with a groan. Shiro kicked Keith’s ankle under the table, earning himself a glower. He had to wonder how long these two had known each other, and whether Keith had used a pocket knife as a kitchen tool in front of Lance yet. Shiro could only imagine Lance’s reaction, though that sort of thing was par for the course in the Shirogane house. Hell, Keith would butter toast with a machete if he could get away with it.

“If you don’t like the way I eat, close your eyes.”

For a moment, it looked like Lance was contemplating silverware theft, but then he pinched the bridge of his nose like a morally offended starlet and focused on his own food. “Back to the issue at hand.”

“You mean you being wrong about Harry Potter lore?”

“Excuse _you_. I’ve read those books ten times. I _grew up_ with those books. _You_ didn’t read them until six months ago when I threatened you with bodily harm.”

Keith stabbed his pizza again, grinning at Lance’s flinch. “Then apparently I have better reading comprehension than you, because there’s a lot more to the prophecy than a birthday.”

“I’m _getting there,_ Keith. Keep your pants on.”

Keith choked on his pizza, and Shiro barely managed to catch his laugh before it escaped. A furious glare (and even more furious blush) from Keith warned dire consequences for brotherly teasing—though the threat was hardly warranted, since Lance hadn’t so much as paused in his lecture to notice the effect his unintended innuendo had had on Keith. He was too busy making a case for how his parents had _thrice defied_ the Dark Lord, not that his argument held water. Shiro seriously doubted fate counted accidentally throwing out a paperback as an act of defiance.

But Keith was still blushing, still trying not to let on that he _knew_ he was blushing, and the longer Shiro stayed there, the more likely he was to invoke his kid brother’s wrath with an ill-advised comment about how Keith always _had_ identified with Ginny Weasley. He downed the rest of his soda and excused himself to go refill his cup.

The bell over the door chimed as he reached the fountain, and a second later Lance’s voice cut through the soft murmur of conversation in the restaurant. “Oh my god, _Hunk?!_ ”

Shiro turned just in time to see Lance sprint toward the front door and tackle the other teen. Hunk had grown several inches since Shiro had last seen him, and next to him Lance looked like even more of a scrawny stick waiting for his growth spurt than usual. Somehow, though, Lance managed to nearly knock Hunk off his feet with the force behind his hug.

“Lance?” Hunk held Lance at arm’s length, beaming. “Holy crap, what are you _doing_ here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“I live here. Well, not _here_ here. Obviously. But I live, like, five minutes away. I thought your family was up north somewhere?”

Sipping his drink, Shiro turned back toward the table, where Keith was doing his best not to look jealous. “You didn’t tell me Lance had friends in town,” Shiro said neutrally, sliding in beside his brother.

Keith shrank down like he was trying to disappear inside his jacket. “Yeah, well, I didn’t know.”

Shiro might have said something to that, but Lance was heading their way, dragging Hunk along behind him. Shiro’s smile faltered when he caught sight of the two people behind them: Matt Holt and a twelve-year-old who looked almost exactly like him.

“Shiro, hey!” Matt called, waving.

Shiro inhaled some of his Pepsi as he struggled to remember how to speak. He felt his cheeks heat up as Keith turned his gaze on him, but forced himself to act natural. “Hey, Matt. And, uh--”

“Hunk,” Matt supplied, since the kid himself was busy trying not to get sat on as Lance tried to make room for the three newcomers at their four-person booth. “And this little monster is Pidge.”

“Ignore my brother,” Pidge said, nudging Lance’s flailing elbow out of the way and sitting beside him, legs swung out into the aisle. “I’m the sweetest little angel you'll ever meet.”

Matt tried to cover his scoff with a sneeze, but as it turned out he wasn’t very good at faking a sneeze and only ended up drawing a dirty look from Pidge. “So.” Matt didn’t wait for Shiro to move before he was sitting down beside him, pressing against him from shoulder to thigh. Shiro scooted over so fast Keith’s arm thudded against the wall, and he retaliated with an elbow in Shiro’s ribs. Matt leaned his cheek on a hand and glanced between Lance and Hunk. “How do you two know each other?”

“We’ve been going to the same summer camp for, what? Eight years?” Hunk beamed at Lance. “It started out as just a coincidence, but after a couple years we started messaging each other during the school year and planning camp sessions together.”

“Woah, wait, hold on.” Lance spun toward Hunk, all but shoving Pidge out of the booth. “ _Hunk_. Are you going to apply to Altea U?”

Hunk blinked. “Uh, yeah, that’s the plan.” He nodded at Matt. “I’m part of the mentor program, so Matt says I’ve got a pretty good shot.”

With a snort, Matt picked a pepperoni off Shiro’s pizza slice. “I think I said you’re smarter than half the people currently in my class, so you’ve got a pretty good shot, but sure. Whatever.”

Hunk gave a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his head. “Right, that. Uh, why?”

“Because _I_ want to go here.” Lance slammed his hands down on the table, rattling the dishes. “Hunk, do you know what this _means_? We could be _roommates_!”

Shiro had to smile at the way Hunk’s eyes lit up, though his humor was dampened somewhat by Keith trying to fold in on himself in the corner. Glancing over only earned him a boot on his toes, but Shiro go the impression that Keith was searching for a way to collapse out of existence entirely, and he didn’t appreciate having two college kids trapping him in the booth. Unless Shiro was way off base, it probably had something to do with the fact that Lance and Hunk were seated directly across from Keith and totally ignoring his existence.

Matt’s hand came to rest on Shiro’s thigh, and it took everything Shiro had in him not to let out a surprised shout.

“Hey, Shiro?” Matt smiled easily as though he had no idea what he was doing, and Shiro’s thoughts were too disjointed to figure out if that was the truth or an innocent act for the benefit of their younger companions. “What do you say I order us two more pizzas while the shrimps finish off these ones?”

“Shrimps?” Lance squawked. “Hey, now, I'm--” He bit his nail while he studied Matt across the table. “ _Hunk_ is taller than you are, for sure.”

Matt only grinned. “Yes, but Hunk is my mentee, so I get to call him whatever I want. Shiro?” he added before Lance could prolong the argument.

Shiro didn’t trust his voice not to betray him, so he just nodded, not relaxing until Matt—and his hand—had left to join the line at the counter. Only then did Shiro let out a sigh and slump backward in his seat. He caught Keith looking at him, the smallest smirk visible above his collar. _Great,_ Shiro thought. Just what he needed to top off this awkward encounter: endless teasing from his kid brother.

He managed to suffer through it, though, mostly because Lance and Hunk dominated the conversation with camp stories, interrupted occasionally by snide comments from Pidge and backhanded insults from Keith that somehow always managed to derail the table for a good ten minutes as Lance rose to the bait. If Shiro didn’t know any better, he’d have said Keith was doing it on purpose. Matt sat back, content to let the drama unfold while Shiro played moderator, painfully aware of the warm body pressed against his.

It really wasn’t fair that Matt was so relaxed about all this.

Eventually Matt and his half of the teen tagalongs had to leave so Hunk and Pidge could finish their homework and still get enough sleep before Monday came knocking. Shiro watched them leave with an uncomfortably familiar mix of relief and disappointment. On the bright side, this probably counted as his smoothest interaction with Matt to date. It was just a shame that that distinction went to a pizza dinner characterized by a heated debate about the end of Homestuck that ended in a shouting match and a concerned pizzeria manager asking them to calm down or take their discussion elsewhere.

Matt, Pidge, and Hunk had barely left before Lance propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. The Cheshire Cat grin he wore promised trouble. “So…” he said, raising an eyebrow. “He seems nice.”

Shiro froze. “What—Matt?” he spluttered.

“Mm-hmm.” Lance scooted closer, eyes sparkling with the light of insatiable gossip. “So are you dating yet, or are you still in denial?”

There was no good way to answer that, so Shiro cleared his throat and focused on boxing up the leftover pizza. Matt had taken two pieces, but insisted Shiro have the rest. _You couldn’t pay me enough money to put pineapple on my pizza. Better for it to go with you than take an express flight to the dumpster._

Unfortunately, Shiro’s nonanswer was answer enough for Lance, who cooed at him before spreading his hands on the table like a villain launching into a monologue. “So definitely not dating. Have you even told him how you feel—no, don’t answer that. Stupid question. No one who’s come clean to a crush ever gets that fish-out-of-water look.”

Keith scoffed, leaning back against the wall, his feet up on the bench seat, the toes of his boots digging into Shiro’s side. “This oughtta be good.”

Lance wrinkled his nose at Keith. “Shut up, _Keef_ , no one asked you. Anyway, what you wanna do is get him alone so you can talk without interruptions.”

“What, like a road trip?” Shiro asked, barely managing to keep a straight face as Keith kicked him in the ribs. Shiro couldn’t help it. There was something amusing about a sixteen-year-old giving him romantic advice, even without the added irony of Keith slowly self-combusting in the corner.

“Sure.” Lance waved a hand. “Whatever. Road trip, movie date, climb Mount-freaking-Everest if you have to. Whatever it takes to get him alone.”

Shiro bit his lip, amusement rising higher as Keith reverted to hiding in his jacket. “Get him alone, got it. What then?”

“Conversation,” Lance said with far more gravity than Shiro thought the topic warranted. “Figure out what he likes, and engage. Get a back-and-forth going.”

 _What, like letting him talk about how he’s basically Harry Potter?_ Shiro thought. He didn’t need to say anything aloud, though; Keith was already groaning into his hands. So Shiro just shook his head. “Tried that once. Turns out biology _really_ isn’t my thing.”

Lance nodded in sympathy. “Keep digging. There’s bound to be something you can connect on.”

“Uh-huh...” Shiro leaned his hand on his fist. “So I’ve got him alone and we’re talking. I’ve been stuck at that part for ages, and I’m trying to get from _talking_ to _dating_. What do you recommend?”

“Just go for it,” Lance said. “Just get in there and kiss him—or, like, put your hand on his leg or something if you aren’t ready for the big leagues. Physical contact is the key, and it can’t be the ambiguous kind. You’ve gotta let him know where you’re coming from.”

“You don’t think I should just say the words?” Shiro asked, doing his best not to react to the steady rhythm of kicks Keith was giving him just out of Lance’s line of sight. “I always thought saying, _hey I like you, wanna catch a movie later_ was the best way to go.”

Lance gave a dismissive huff. “You really are old.”

“Hey!”

“No offense,” Lance added. “No one does that anymore.”

Keith’s eyes rolled like they were trying to escape the conversation. “ _You_ don’t do that anymore, Lance, and how many actual dates have you been on?”

Lance faltered. “...Do you count that time--”

“One,” Keith said, “and no. Study dates with assigned partners do _not_ count.”

Lance pouted, and Shiro allowed himself a quiet chuckle. “Well, thanks for the advice, Lance. I’ll, uh, let you know how that works out for me. Right now, you two need to hit the road before Mom kills me for keeping Keith too late.”

“ _Takashi_ ,” Keith moaned.

Lance only smiled, stretching out as he stood. “It was great to meet you, Shiro. We should do this again.”

“Of course,” Shiro said, resisting the urge to look at Keith as he did. “As long as you don’t mind sleeping on air mattresses in our tiny apartment, I’m always happy to host you.”

Lance grinned. “Awesome.”

The bell rang as Lance walked out into the parking lot, and Shiro grinned down at Keith, who was taking his sweet time crawling out of the booth. “You’re welcome,” he said, not bothering to hide his amusement now that Lance was out of the way.

Keith punched him in the shoulder as he passed. “You’re such an asshole.”

“An asshole who just got you a step-by-step guide to wooing your crush. Just get him alone—check—strike up a conversation—not a problem—then kiss him when you get home. Easy!”

Keith glared at him as he stalked toward the door. “I hate you so much right now.”

Shiro laughed aloud. “Love you, too, you little snot.”


	4. Senior Year

Shiro’s phone buzzed and, grateful for the distraction from four subjects’ worth of finals review, he reached across the table to pick it up.

_I might have a problem._

Blinking, Shiro stared at the text, waiting for further explanation but—in true Keith fashion—none came. _A problem_ could mean anything from _We’re out of pop-tarts_ to _I’m gonna need you to bail me out of prison._ Shiro rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He’d been fortunate enough to find a study room in the physics and engineering building that had padded spinny chairs instead of the usual plastic monstrosities.

Well, it might be more accurate to say he’d started his review session early enough to claim one of these coveted spots. Exams stared in two days, and Shiro had woken up at seven to get to work. On a _Saturday_. It was masochistic, as Allura had pointed out when she’d joined him at nine, but Shiro needed to finish out his college career strong. Which was why he’d declined Allura’s offer to spend the evening relaxing. She’d been kind enough to bring Shiro dinner at six, then left with Rolo and Nyma to watch movies. (Or… something. Shiro honestly hadn’t been paying that much attention.)

It was quarter to eight now, and Shiro wasn’t sure he had the brain power left to deal with Keith’s vague-texting.

_**What kind of problem?** _

Keith began typing, then stopped for a long moment. Shiro was about to go back to quantum mechanics when Keith responded.

_A Lance kind of problem._

Ah.

Shiro smiled, setting down his pen to focus on Keith. He and Lance had been dancing around each other for over a year now, neither of them officially making a move despite the fact that they spent most of their free time together, sometimes with a larger group of friends, sometimes just playing video games at home.

 _**It’s about time**_ **,** Shiro texted, and got photo of Keith flipping him off in response. _**What is it this time?** _

Keith’s response was slow in coming.

_I think we might possibly be going on a date tonight. As in now. As in we’re at an Italian restaurant and he’s wearing his good jeans._

_**The ones that you think make his ass look nice?** _

_Fuck you._

_And yes._

_What do I do???_

A knock on the study room door distracted Shiro from the problem of how to give his brother romantic advice when Keith had made more progress with his crush in a year and a half than Shiro had made in nearly four.

So of course the person he found leaning into the small room, backpack slung over his shoulder and an apologetic smile on his face, was Matt Holt.

“Hey! Sorry, do you mind if I join you? My roommates have ‘moved on’ from studying, and there aren’t any more open spots on campus.” He scratched behind his ear with a pencil, looking sheepish. “I mean, I guess I could just claim a spot on the floor out in the hallway. I wouldn’t be the only one. But that’s kind of uncomfortable, and I figured, hey, I know you, there’s a spot at your table, so…?” He smiled hopefully.

“Oh, uh, sure.” Shiro rearranged his scattered books and notes to make room at the table and, beaming, Matt took a seat. Shiro’s crush had had four years to cool, but he still found himself left a little light-headed at Matt's sudden arrival. His smile was just so bright and uninhibited, like he didn’t know how to feel things halfway.

Shiro tried to focus on his notes, but that only lasted until his phone buzzed again, a silent accusation.

_?????_

Sighing, Shiro glanced at Matt, who was gnawing on his pen cap as he flipped through diagrams of nerve cells and flowcharts Shiro could only assume had something to do with the human body.

_**Okay, first? Focus on Lance. This is a date, not a lecture you’re trying to distract yourself from.** _

_Are you saying you text your friends during lecture?_

_**Don’t change the subject. Talk to Lance. Don’t make him think you’d rather be with someone else.** _

That seemed to scare Keith into putting his phone away, and Shiro had almost half an hour of uninterrupted studying. Matt’s presence was a minor distraction at first, but it quickly became obvious that he really was here to study, and they worked in the easy, focused silence of the exam room, aware of each other only peripherally, the subject matter demanding full attention.

_SOS_

Shiro barely held back a groan as Keith texted twice more in quick succession, first an emoji of a tombstone, then a gif of a burning building.

 _**Oh, no,** _ Shiro texted. _**What did you do?** _

_Nothing!_

_Everything_

_Can you call me in five minutes and pretend Dad had a heart attack or something?_

_**What???** _

_**No.** _

_**Keith, what the hell is happening?** _

_I’m the worst at dating._

_**Please tell me you’re not sitting across from Lance panic-texting me.** _

_No_

_I went to the bathroom_

_I think he knows_

_**Knows what? That you’re having a nervous breakdown?** _

_Yes!_

_Or well no more like that I’m an idiot and he can do way better._

“What’s the emergency?”

Shiro looked up halfway through crafting his response and found Matt staring at him, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. “What? Oh, uh, sorry for bothering you. I can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Matt stretched, yawning. “I could use a break. Everything all right?” He gestured to Shiro’s phone, and Shiro swore, hurrying to finish his reply.

_**You’re overreacting. I’m sure he’s totally into you.** _

“It’s just my brother,” Shiro explained to Matt, setting his phone on the table. “He’s freaking out about this guy he likes. I guess they’re on their fist date.”

“And he’s texting you?” Matt asked, wincing. “Ouch.”

Shiro reached for his buzzing phone, grimacing his agreement. “Keith’s...not the best at dating.”

_You’re my brother. You have to say that._

_**Not true.** _

_**How long have you been in the bathroom?** _

…

_**Keith.** _

_A while………_

_**Get back out there before Lance thinks you bailed on him. And try to relax, okay? You’ve known him for more than a year, and he hasn’t run away screaming yet.** _

_Gee, thanks._

_**Any time** _

_**Everyone’s first date is awkward, okay? I promise if you stop thinking about how weird you are you’ll see Lance is freaking out, too. So. Breathe.** _

Matt waited for Shiro to finish before giving an over-emphasized eye roll. “First dates are the _worst_.”

Shiro laughed, setting his phone face-down on the far side of his textbook. Keith was going to have to do this on his own one way or another, and Shiro still had exams to prepare for. “True,” he said, “but I’d rather be on a first date than trying to get quantum mechanics to make sense.”

There was a long silence, and Shiro looked up to find Matt staring at the tabletop, a strange, conflicted look on his face. Shiro felt his face heat up, and he quickly rewound the conversation, wondering if he’d said anything that might have given away that the first date he’d rather be on would ideally include Matt. He didn’t _think_ he’d crossed any lines. He hadn’t _meant_ to. He was just making conversation, and his brain was just a little too fried from twelve hours of studying.

Oh, god.

“How about a second date?”

Shiro gaped at him. “What?”

“Well, I was just thinking, first dates are awful, so why don’t we skip right to the good part?” Matt slapped his hands over his face, but that didn’t quite hide the blush creeping toward his hairline. “Sorry, that was weird. Was that weird? That sounded less creepy in my head.”

“No, wait, back up. _What?_ ”

Matt’s fingers parted, and he peeked out at Shiro from behind his hands. “I was just thinking… I like you, and I think you like me, too. I mean, well, Allura was very careful to point out that she wasn’t saying you _didn’t_ like me, and I thought--”

“ _Allura_?” Shiro spluttered. “What—when did—oh my god.” He slumped down in his chair, screwing his eyes shut. “I’m going to kill her. But...” He took a deep breath, working himself up to _just say it._ “She wasn’t wrong.”

When he opened his eyes, he found Matt staring at him, still red-faced, his hands partially lowered so they only obscured his wide grin. “So… does that mean you might, hypothetically, be okay with going on a date?”

Shiro’s face felt like it was on fire, but he managed a shaky smile. “Sounds a lot better than quantum mechanics, that’s for sure.”

“Cool, um.” Matt scratched his neck. “The engineering department has an ice cream social starting in about twenty minutes. Wanna go?”

“Ice cream social?” Shiro asked. “How retro.”

“Excuse you, retro’s cool.”

Shiro laughed. “No, you’re right. So… it’s a date?”

“It’s a second date.” Matt bit his lip, his eyes darting to Shiro’s, then back down to the notebook in front of him. “If you’re good with that. I’d just as soon call this whole--” He waved his hands vaguely. “What I’m trying to say is, we’ve already mastered the awkward part, so we can just end the awful first date here and pick up with the less awkward sequel?”

Shiro smiled, his heart doing flips in his chest. “Great! That sounds—that sounds great.”

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

Shiro’s phone buzzed for a solid fifteen seconds, and Shiro groaned as he reached for it.

Matt flipped his textbook shut and drummed his fingers on the cover. “You know, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think this was pretty much my best idea ever, so don’t be afraid to pass along the advice to your brother.”

Shiro arched an eyebrow. “You know, I might just do that.”


End file.
